


The Mission

by ashitanoyuki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Gordon's POV, Purgatory, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1798099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashitanoyuki/pseuds/ashitanoyuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there's one thing he regrets about his death, it's that Sam Winchester still walks the earth. Even in the shadows of Purgatory, he longs for a second chance to fulfill his mission and save the world from the Antichrist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mission

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why there isn't more Gordon fic. Really, he's a fascinating character to write. So, have a drabble from his POV.

He’d thought, as Sam Winchester wrapped that wire around his throat and pulled, that it was the end. Hell, he was counting on it. His one regret was that he never did manage to kill Sam. The Antichrist was still loose in the world, and for all his superior strength, speed, and skill, he had failed in his mission. But then, maybe it shouldn’t be surprising. What was one man (or several men, or a vampire) when up against the emissary of Satan himself?

It was supposed to be over, done. Nothingness, void. Instead, he found himself in a shady forest, running for his life. And once he started running, well, he just couldn’t stop.

Other vampires, they partnered off. Formed nests, filthy little pockets of bloodthirsty vice, just like they had topside. But not him. No, he ran solo, killing those other vamps just as easily as he had when he was alive. Killed lots of other monsters too—even in Purgatory, he was still a hunter. As far as he was concerned, the place was just a stepping-stone to true death, and he would purge it of all the monsters he could before they killed him themselves.

He’d been running for years when he first saw the angel.

He didn’t know how he knew it was an angel, all tattered coat and unshaven face and blinding, holy grace. He kept to the shadows, watching, waiting, the scent of divinity strong in his nose. Provided all the distraction he could to keep the Leviathan and other nasty things off the being’s tail. Whatever an angel was doing in Purgatory, well, it wasn’t his place to question. Clearly, it was God’s will.

And then Dean Winchester, older than he remembered, still stinking of humanity, found the angel. It was then that all became clear, through overheard snippets of conversation. This angel knew the Winchesters. It was close to them—or at least, close to Dean. He was sure that the vampire who traveled with them caught his scent, but the creature never mentioned his presence. That was good. From what he could tell, Sam Winchester still walked the Earth, defying Heaven and causing chaos. Had almost caused the apocalypse. Had let the Devil himself out. He could have predicted that much.

And when the angel sent Dean and that other vampire back to Earth, well, it was the best news he’d heard since those vamps had gotten to him. There was a way out of Purgatory. If he could just figure out a way to travel through it—another human, or even the angel itself—he could get back in the game. He could kill Sam Winchester at long last.

Like every other denizen of Purgatory, he felt it when an entire garrison of angels entered the Domain of Monsters. Unlike the other wretched creatures, he did not flee. He made his way forward, tracking the clear trail of angelic grace, until he finally came face to face with one of the squadrons.

The angels paid him no mind as he walked through their encampment, not until he stopped before their leader. Red hair, and a sensible suit—it looked more like a business executive than the embodiment of the wrath of God. But he knew better. If an angel could be a man in a ragged trench coat, then why not a woman in a business suit?

It gazed at him, more vague interest than anything else. “It’s not often that a creature from Purgatory comes toe to toe with an angel,” it said mildly, looking down its nose at him. And that was its right. He knew he was an abomination, unclean. But if the angel would just _listen,_ then he could be of use to it.

“You’re looking for that angel, right?” he asked. “The one in the trench coat.”

The angel raised its eyebrows, interested. “Castiel,” it said slowly. “You know where he is?”

Of course he did. He still had the angel’s scent. “I do,” he said calmly. “I can take you to him. I just want one thing in return.”

The angel waved off its guards, peering at him curiously. “What do you ask for?” it asked.

A small smile crossed his face. “I want to be human again,” he said. “I _need_ to be human again. I need to get out of here and finish my mission.”

“And what mission is that?”

He straightened his spine, meeting the angel’s vast, endless eyes. “To kill Sam Winchester.”

The angel was silent for a moment. “Kill Sam Winchester,” it said finally. “He has been remarkably problematic—more so than most humans. And his existence poses a continuing threat to the stability of Heaven, especially after what he’s done to us.” The angel nodded. “I will grant your request—after you take us to Castiel.”

He led them through the trees and valleys of Purgatory, tracking the tattered angel by scent. And when they found it, when multitudes of angels laid hands upon it and vanished, their leader turned back to him with a smile. “You’ve served us well,” the angel said, laying its hands upon his face. “Go, now.”

The world lurched around him, and he was standing in an alleyway, alone, the stink of grime and gasoline in his nose. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the world with his human senses. Human, again. No longer an abomination. A person, a man—a hunter.

Ever since the night those vamps had gotten to his sister, Gordon Walker had made it his mission to eradicate the world of evil. Human once more, he was equipped to continue on with his mission, his destiny. Yeah, so he’d have to start from scratch with his contacts and weapons and aliases, but he’d always been resourceful. It could be done.

A car drove past, shiny and black. In the driver’s seat, a man with short, sandy hair turned his face slightly to address another man, this one with long brown hair. Foreboding prickled at the back of his neck, and he knew—he knew exactly who the two men were. Sam and Dean Winchester.

He made a note of the license plates, memorizing them as he walked. It was a start—his first lead. God had given him a second chance. God had saved him from monstrosity, had raised him from the dead, had ordained his mission to destroy the Antichrist and bring peace to the world.

This time, he would not fail.


End file.
